


Needy

by BijutsuYoukai



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Begging, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Jealousy, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Slight fluff, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-08
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:47:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28368624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BijutsuYoukai/pseuds/BijutsuYoukai
Summary: Reader’s jealousy over the attention Izaya gives to everyone else finally comes to a head one evening. They discover it hasn't exactly been a secret to the information broker.
Relationships: Orihara Izaya/Reader
Comments: 5
Kudos: 45





	1. Green-Eyed Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another concept that has been sitting in my notes since I finished the first season of Durarara!!. Izaya has been coming up a decent amount in some recent conversations and I was convinced to continue watching DRRR!! with X2/etc, so my want to write this has been reinvigorated.
> 
> This lead-up can be skipped if desired. It’s mostly Reader being bored and getting more jealous as the day goes on, but I felt like writing it and was having a good time, so it exists (plus it’s a little help to practice for a longer project I may have in mind.). You won’t miss out on any smut skipping this chapter, so if you’re here for that, feel free to move onto the next one!

You came to slowly, unwilling to leave the peaceful land of slumber, tangled in the soft warmth of the sheets and pillows like so many other days. The surrounding room was dark, the sheets displaced by whatever tossing and turning had taken place through the night. You contemplated snuggling back into the blankets and snoozing the day away, but admonished yourself quickly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes with your wrist. It wouldn’t do to spend all day in bed - at least not alone.

You had long since grown used to waking up in Izaya Orihara’s bed, often after long exhausting evenings preceding it. Many mornings you awoke in his arms, or with him in yours, surrounded by his faint scent of soap and spice and bitter tea. Those were the sweetest. Had someone told you when you first met him Izaya was the cuddling type - in or out of bed - you would have laughed in their face at the absurdity. As much as he claimed to love humans, he didn’t come off as the type to be physically affectionate. You were glad to learn that your first impressions had been incorrect. 

Recently something had changed. Izaya’s workload new was far heavier than before, which left less of his time for you. You occupied yourself more often while he stared intently at various screens for hours or went on about plans only he fully knew and understood. You were used to that well enough, just not so much as had become the recent norm. Sure, Namie was often around as well, but she was little in the way of good company or entertainment. 

There were the times when Izaya left to gallivant around the city and make life a pain for the more powerful or notable denizens of the city or to meet clients to broker his work. When he was away you didn’t even have to chance to try to coax him into taking the occasional break. Those were the days you hated the most, but you knew it wasn’t his job to amuse you  _ all _ the time- even if you would have been perfectly happy with that kind of arrangement.

Despite suggestive promises and invitations to join you, you had begun retiring to bed alone long before Izaya more and more commonly. Often you feel asleep before he ever came to bed - some nights you weren’t sure he did at all. Even on the mornings you knew he had, whether from the displacement of the bedsheets or a faded warmth beside you, he was up and back at work before you woke as if he had never stopped. That morning was another on which you awoke alone, frowning at the impressions in the sheets beside you and wishing you had woken earlier or he had stayed longer in bed.

You tried to convince yourself it was normal, reminding yourself that Izaya was a busy man. That he had so much business to attend to was no surprise, especially when Ikebukuro got rowdy, due to whatever new event involving the color gangs or a shift in Yakuza politics popped up. But reason did nothing to wash away the bitter taste in your mouth when you wandered out into the hall and looked down to see Izaya entertaining another early morning client. 

You frowned, glowering down at the seated client - you weren’t sure who they were, but they looked vaguely familiar, so likely some regular - sitting across from Izaya. The informant in question looked as cool and confident as ever. For a moment, the lilt of his voice overturned your bitterness, but the moment was brief and it returned obstinately. You waited, resting your elbows against the rail, sure to remain hidden among the shadows cast by the apartment’s angles. 

You knew better than to interrupt his business. Even if you were upset it seemed to consume every waking hour recently, interference was taboo. You had learned that a long time ago. You weren’t sure if Izaya being wholly unconcerned you might overhear a business conversation meant he just didn’t care or if he trusted you. Maybe it was a bit of both.

You grew bored quickly, hardly listening to the exchange at the desk below, despite neither bothering to keep their voice down. At last, there was a shuffling of something - funds, contracts, whatever, you couldn’t tell from your perch - and then the client rose with a farewell and turned to leave. You eased further into the shadow, fairly sure you weren’t in danger of being seen, but better safe than sorry. Passingly, you imagined how irate some of Izaya’s clients might have been if they were aware a second set of eyes and ears was butting in on their private conversations with the informant.

Izaya followed courteously, seeing them off to the door and bidding a professional, cheery goodbye. Only once you heard the door snap closed did you make your way down the stairs. But before you even descended the last step, you heard Izaya engaged in another conversation and your face sank. He wasn’t speaking to you, of course, but another client or contact on one of his many cellphones. Work, work, and more work again. Izaya cast you a small smile before tuning back into his call, plopping down on the couch as he talked.

You sat down on the cushion beside him, careful to stay quiet and not interrupt his call. Izaya lay an arm along the back of the sectional but didn’t touch you, and you gave it a sidelong glance. A childish part of you fantasized about tearing the phone from his hand and tossing it away, undoubtedly garnering his attention one way or another. You quickly silenced the thought, waiting some more. You had hardly been awake for long, and already you had done so much waiting.

Just as you were considering moving off the couch to grab a book off the shelf or freshen up, you heard the call winding down from Izaya’s tone. A hopeful excitement sprang up in your chest and you inched closer to Izaya as he hung up.

“Izaya, since you’re done with those clients, how about we…” you began to propose, placing what you intended to be a seductive touch on his knee. Your words fell away, noting Izaya was paying no mind to you - his eyes and fingers focused on the message he was composing on his phone.

“Hm, what was that, darling?” He asked, hitting send and tucking the phone into a pocket.

“Ah, it was nothing important,” you dismissed, sighing internally and pulling your hand back. You had a feeling you knew what the answer was going to be.

Izaya eyed you quietly for a second, and you wondered if he suspected the thoughts simmering beyond your dismissal. “I see. Well, I’ve got some things to take care of,” he announced, the previous scrutiny disappearing and replaced by his typical demeanor. When he rose from his seat, his fingers brushed fleetingly across your shoulder and you followed the oh-so-slight motion out of the corner of your eyes. “Don’t get into too much trouble while I’m gone.”

You almost rolled your eyes at his teasing words. You really should have been the one warning  _ him _ . Izaya Orihara telling  _ you _ not to get into trouble when he caused and attracted it himself in so many forms was an irony so thick you could taste it. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you would,” you shot back wryly.

He smirked, leaning in for a second and pressing a quick kiss to your cheek that left you wanting. You watched him straighten and turn on his heel, vanishing down the entryway and out the door briskly. 

You sighed, leaning on your elbow on the back of the sofa with your cheek resting on a fist. Silence enveloped you again, save for the dull chatter of the birds outside and even fainter sounds of people in the streets below. You searched the apartment lazily, trying to decide on something to entertain yourself with. Neither the TV nor the assortment of books on the shelf piqued your interest, nor did the idea of laying on the couch and browsing the internet or the forums. Certain ones were amusing now and then, chatrooms especially, but you weren’t in the mood for any of that.

In your search, you realized that you were left completely alone in the apartment. There was no sign of Namie, whom you knew by that time would have normally arrived. A day off for the woman then. Just your rotten luck that you didn’t even have her prickly company for the day. Perhaps you would take a stroll down to Ikebukuro and entertain yourself there instead.

* * *

A shower and a change of clothes later and you had left the spacious apartment, unsure exactly  _ where _ in Ikebukuro you were planning to go. It was always important to monitor your surroundings in the city, even if you weren’t somewhere sketchy or isolated. You weren’t sure if your involvement with Izaya was a secret or not - or how widespread it was, even if it  _ was _ a secret. All you knew was that not everyone liked the information broker and some of those people had enough balls - or few enough brain cells - to think screwing with someone more closely involved with Izaya was a good idea.

Even with that in mind, Ikebukuro, for all the trouble that took place so often, really wasn’t very intriguing most days. Sure, there was always something lurking beneath the surface, someone moving pawns on a chessboard, or some plan being brought to fruition. None of that mattered though unless you wanted to butt into someone else’s business. And unlike a certain someone you knew, sticking your nose into other peoples’ affairs wasn’t a hobby of yours for the most part.

You grabbed a quick bite to eat in one of the small shops on your way into the more bustling parts of the city. You weren’t sure if you had gotten a bad batch or if everything just tasted worse from your boredom and bitterness, but your breakfast left you thoroughly unsatisfied. A running trend for the morning it seemed. Well, there was plenty of time in the day left to fix that, right? 

For a while, you sat down on an empty bench on a busy street, watching the many perfectly ordinary people of the city going about their daily business, blissfully unaware of the games being played around them, save for when the usual players shook up things in particularly noisy ways. You mentally picked one out from the crowd, now and then, wondering if beneath the surface they had some awful or bizarre secret, as was the case for several of the notable names in Ikebukuro. When you had first come to the city, you would have never imagined such normal-looking people were capable of having such impressive secrets, but your time had taught you much.

Here and there, over an hour or so, you spotted several of the men or women you  _ knew _ to be trouble of some degree. A high-schooled aged boy who couldn’t have looked more commonplace if he tried with some fantastical sounding name. A tall man in a headscarf who often rode around with a band of eccentrics in a van. A man with dreadlocks and glasses, flanked by a grouchy looking blonde smoking a cigarette. Your brow arched up and a jolt of jealousy swirled in your gut at the sight of the blonde.

You knew most of the others were involved in Izaya’s business in one form or another - generally not by choice - but you were acutely aware of how much attention he paid the blonde. He had spoken about him before, insisting how much he hated monsters like him, but you weren’t so sure sometimes. Whatever the case, he devoted a lot of his attention to making his life miserable, you knew that much. Time you pettily felt could have been better spent paying attention to you without the threat of being beaten into the concrete.

Shaking off the feeling, you daydreamt for a little while about what it would be like to be involved in all the dirty dealings and trickery that went into the politics controlling the city. Maybe it would be a better and more exciting use of your time than what you did for fun. You doubted you were cut out for how cut-throat you had heard the game could be though, so perhaps it was best it remained an idle imagining. Eventually, imagining what-ifs and singling people out in the ever-moving crowds grew dull and you stood up, taking your outing back on the move.

Turning a corner, you glanced through the immaculately polished glass windows of a quaint, cozy cafe. Your face stretched in surprise, eyes widening for an instant as they landed on a slender form and handsome, sly face there was no mistaking. Izaya looked so comfortable, settled on one of the window seats facing outward. He looked to be watching the crowds go by, sipping contently at the steaming mug in his grasp. People-watching?  _ That _ was the business he had needed to attend to? 

Jealousy swelled in your chest again, acrid and burning, and you took a deep breath to quell it. Yes, you had been doing the same thing recently - out of necessity to amuse yourself since Izaya had ignored you, you reminded yourself crossly - but you hadn’t labeled it as something that needed tending to. You stepped back, glaring from your spot on the corner for a moment before making an about-face and striding angrily away from the cafe windows. Now you were bored  _ and _ angry. So much for the idea that there time for the day to improve.

You tried your hardest to clear your head as strolled aimlessly, but the stubborn emotions refused to go. The image of him seated so relaxedly in the cafe as if he had nothing else in the world he could be doing compounded your frustration, making it grow hotter and more irrational. ‘ _ You could have spoken up’ _ a small voice piped up. ‘ _ Maybe you’re just not interesting enough to keep his attention _ ,’ another far meaner voice sneered. You ground your teeth and shook your head, refusing to accept either suggestion.

When wandering alone with your antagonistic thoughts became too much, you gave up the idea of your pleasant excursion. Head cloudy with nagging voices and snippets of the day, chest burning angrily, you made your way back to Izaya’s apartment. At least there you could be moody in peace without worry of anyone seeing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Teasing and smut in the next chapter! I hope for those who like lead-up this first chapter was vaguely interesting.
> 
> If you’d like to follow me elsewhere, I post my work to Tumblr (and ramblings on process/concepts/etc.)
> 
> [https://bjy-on-ao3.tumblr.com](https://bjy-on-ao3.tumblr.com/)


	2. Feed the Beast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you came to this fic looking for smut, this is where you’ll be getting it. Some teasing lead-up still, but it’s related well enough, so I hope y’all enjoy it! Kinda sorta little bits of feelings and fluff sprinkled in? Idk.

When Izaya returned, the daylight hours were winding to a close and the sun was sneaking beneath the horizon of the cityscape, painting the world in angry reds and golds. A fitting backdrop to the fiery emotions that had taken root in your chest. Stretched out on the couch with a book that was only remotely interesting in your lap, the sound of the door immediately drew your attention. When you looked up from the pages, he looked as unrushed and unconcerned as he always did.

“Do anything fun while I was out?” Izaya asked casually, brushing past the couch - hardly paying you mind more than his words - and moving to sit at his desk.

You snapped the book in your hand shut loudly and rose to put it back in the bookcase before you looked over to answer him. “Hm,” you paused as if you had much to consider when you’d done mostly nothing for the day, save for your brief trip into town, “just a walk around Ikebukuro. Checking out the usual chaos,” you said as you fitted the book into its slot. You stepped back toward the sofa and Izaya’s desk. “Didn’t see anything particularly intriguing. Things seem… quiet.”

“Looks can be deceiving, my dear,” Izaya chided, gesturing with a finger. You noticed he was facing you as he spoke, instead of surveying his computer monitor as usual lately. His demeanor shifted, his grin dipping slightly. “Something on your mind?” He asked. You weren’t sure if the concern in his tone was genuine.

“No, it’s nothing. Get back to your work,” you tried to convince him, as if your words and a dismissive wave of your hand would put an end to the line of thought. “I’m sure plenty of people are waiting to hear from you.” You hated the pettiness clawing at your breast when you spoke. Worse, it bled through in your tone.

“Oh, is that so?” Izaya appeared suddenly far more interested in you, eyes narrowing in a calculating manner and one eyebrow arching gracefully. “What’s that I hear in your voice, darling? It almost sounded like jealousy,” he prodded, and you only barely caught the excited undercurrent in his speech.

“You’re hearing things,” you denied flatly, though you cursed the way your nostrils flared and the sourness tainting your voice.

“Hm, I don’t know.” It was hard to miss the feigned uncertainty in Izaya’s voice as he got to his feet. It was always a case to be cautious when Izaya played dumb.

Coming to stand by the full-length windows, you refused to meet his eyes, answering your reflection in the glass, speech short and clipped. “Yes, I’m sure. Go on. Nothing’s wrong.”

When Izaya spoke again, he was at your side, hooking his thumb and forefinger beneath your jaw and coaxing you to turn your head and look at him. “You’re so cute when you try to lie to me,” he said in an amused hush.

Despite the way your heart stuttered in your chest, you remained firm in your denial. “I don’t have the slightest idea what you mean.”

There was not a single trace of malice or irritation on Izaya’s handsome face as you lied through your teeth to him. But something sharp and mischievous glittered back at you from his intent stare. “Do you think I haven’t noticed?”

Anger seethed white-hot in your stomach and you balled your hands into fists at your sides, remembering how much he had ignored you over the past days. How hints you thought blatantly obvious had been left by the wayside without so much as a word, while Izaya entrenched himself in his work. Or at least what excuses amounted to work, if what you had seen earlier that day was any sign. “Oh  _ please _ , you’ve been too busy with everyone but me to notice anything,” you snapped.

His sly chuckle in response made your belly twist angrily once more. “I thought you knew me better than that, darling. I know just how needy you are.” He leaned in closer as he spoke, voice dripping amusement but taking on a breathy note. “How greedy you are for my attention.” His lips brushed yours as he spoke and your anger floundered and died, overcome by a fluttering, hopeful buzz. 

His lips didn’t seal over yours like you so very much wanted them to, and it left you feeling electrified and tense. The breath in your throat felt like a solid lump and you didn’t dare let it go. Izaya coaxed you backward, one hand pushing lightly into your shoulder, steering you until the solid plane of the window met you. The hand on your shoulder slipped aside, splaying over the glass beside your head.

“Now, why don’t you tell me what’s gotten you so agitated? Tell me what you’ve missed so much.” His voice was hardly greater than a whisper, but your burning ears caught every steadily more playful word. “After all, you want my attention so badly for  _ some _ reason, don’t you?”

The sultry hint in his voice in the last few words made it even more difficult to breathe than it had been already. Your blood burned like fire that infused your skin and bubbled your brain. “I…” you began, the lone word breathless and hesitant. 

Far gone was the indignant ball of jealousy and anger that stood before Izaya only moments ago. Here he was, clinging to every little word and flicker of emotion as you had desired, only for the courage to answer him to flee at from same intense focus.

“Don’t bother acting shy,” Izaya warned you. “I’ll get it out of you one way or another.” His voice dropped huskily, and you shivered as the thumb on your jaw stroked gently over your skin to accompany his words.

“I’ve missed your touch,” you said, swallowing to clear your throat, the words coming out like a gasp.

“Oh?” The single syllable dripped with faux-shock. “Where? Here?” The hand on your jaw caressed the line of your neck lower and lower until it touched the exposed bits of your collarbone.

Your breath caught again with Izaya’s face still so close to yours, his half-lidded gaze surveying each tiny detail. Or rather, it was more the intensity nearly made you forget to breathe at all combined with his light touch. “What about here?” His wandering hand slid down, stopping at the hem of your shirt before sneaking beneath it and delicately caressing your torso up and down, stopping at the curve of your waist.

A small whimper left your lips and Izaya’s knowing grin split a little wider. But he hadn’t gotten what he was after yet, judging by the gleam in his eyes. “Not it? Why don’t you show me then?” He suggested, rubbing small circles on your waist.

Flushing at the thought, you looked away from his keen gaze and wet your lips apprehensively. Izaya finding enjoyment in flustering you was nothing new, but somehow what he asked seemed mortifying. He remained there, waiting patiently and showing no sign of letting you get away without demonstrating where you craved his touch.

Tentatively, you slid a hand to the waistband of your pants, pushing them and your panties down enough Izaya could see as you slipped your fingers between your legs. Your face felt hotter than the sun-baked sidewalk outside, and when you looked back into Izaya’s ruddy eyes, your body burned elsewhere. A wave of warmth surged between your thighs as you dipped your fingers into your folds, already slick and dripping into your underwear.

His gaze was ardent, attention engrossed in the motion of your hand and alight with excitement. “Mm, there? How obscene!” His tone wavered with pretended surprise, as if he were aghast at your lewd behavior. You had known Izaya long enough to know he loved to make a show of things though. Nor did you think he was even close to done. “And just how have you been wanting me to touch you? What have you been hoping I’d do to you?” His words tickled your ear, his cheek feeling cool as it pressed against yours.

“Izaya, please…” you begged, still embarrassed to carry on, even when your pussy was throbbing in time with your heart and coating your fingertips.

“No need to get embarrassed now,” he teased, encouraging you with a lazy lick to the shell of your ear. “Seems like you’ve had plenty of time to think about. I bet it’s been driving you crazy.”

“I…” you began again, bordering on the choice of dignity or desire. 

He was right, and you both loved and hated it. It had been driving you mad in so many definitions of the word. Izaya was leaving you little choice but to admit it and indulge his ego. But if it was that or go back to being ignored, the choice had already made itself.

Choosing the heat between your legs and the thrum of anticipation flooding you, you shifted your pants and panties further down, working your finger up and down your slit, stopping at the top and rubbing gingerly. “Yes, it’s, aah, all I can think about lately,” you confessed, the sensation of your fingers on your clit accented by the touch of Izaya’s mouth on your jawline making you pause and whine.

A breathy hum acknowledged your confession. “I thought so.” He always sounded self-assured, even in heated moments. “Have you been thinking about it while you watched me work?” Izaya pressed, looking you in lust-clouded eyes. ”Or maybe when you were spying on me in Ikebukuro earlier? Don’t think I missed that,” he hissed deviously.

You shuddered and flushed, continuing to stroke yourself, only able to manage a nod of confirmation as another whimper rendered you wordless. “I know how desperately you’ve wanted me to have my way with you again.” You rubbed yourself more urgently in the wake of his words, adding another finger and pausing only to ease them both shallowly inside your cunt.

You didn’t bother to stop when you spoke again, moving your fingers in and out slowly, absorbed in touching yourself for Izaya now that you had begun. “So, w-what?” Your voice wavered and nearly cracked, hardly managing the venom you wanted, “Ignoring me was just another, aah, game?”

His hand on your waist fell smoothly, joining your hand inside your underwear and trailing a slender finger along your folds as you finger-fucked yourself. “Maybe I just wanted to see you admit how much you wanted me,” Izaya answered with a wider smirk, placing a quick ghost of a kiss on your slightly parted lips. “But it’s been so much fun watching you pout thinking I wasn’t paying any mind, wondering what you’d do next.”

You thought back on the morning through the distraction. How Izaya had so casually acted as if he hadn’t been listening, how he had pretended to pause and consider your words, and how he had let his fingers briefly linger on your shoulder. Had the entire thing and the days before been an act? Just how long had it been going on?

“I-Izaya, stop teasing me,” you groaned as he gave you another quick kiss before peppering your jaw and neck with pecks that were equally light and quick. His fingers moved to your clit, left alone in favor of crooking your fingers inside your cunt, rubbing over it agonizingly slowly.

“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked, “Besides, you seem like you’re enjoying yourself,” he noted as you panted, thrusting your fingers into your heat more frantically as the combined touches pushed you higher. “Unless there’s something else you’ve been thinking about?”

It was getting harder and harder to  _ think, _ let alone speak, and you cursed quietly, incoherently. “Don’t… don’t make me say it,” you argued.

“Mm, how else am I supposed to know?” He said coyly, acting as if he wasn’t able to read most people like an open book.

“F-fuck. Like how… you know… everything  _ else _ ,” you gasped, a touch of irritation rising among the meek tone. You bucked your hips, feeling the tension expanding, the point of no return  _ so _ close it was nearly tangible.

“Flattery won’t get you anywhere. You’ll just have to tell me. Or maybe I should just go back to work?”

His hand stopped, and he grabbed your wrist, pulling your fingers away. You whined petulantly, reflexively trying to jerk your hand out of his grasp and return to what you had been doing. But Izaya’s grip held fast, and when you focused on his face, his expression was far too pleased, like the cat that ate the canary.

“N-no!” you protested quickly at his threat. You couldn’t take being set aside again for who knew how much longer, especially not after he riled you up so much. “Fuck, fine. I want you to…” you trailed off, watching Izaya nonchalantly lift the hand he had captured to his lips and pull your slick fingers into his mouth.

You watched transfixed, lips parted but speechless, as he sucked on the digits, the slippery, warm touch of his tongue rolling over them. When he had licked them clean of your essence, he dragged them from his mouth, eyeing you coolly, despite the hunger swirling in his gaze.

“C’mon, you can tell me.”

“Eat me out, Izaya,” you were struck from your stupor, the words bursting over your tongue and instantly giving you the sense you might spontaneously combust beneath his ardent gaze.

A grin with a hint of teeth dawned on Izaya’s face. It thrilled him it had taken less convincing than initially expected to make you admit something so dirty. “There you go. Was that so hard?” he teased, the undertone of desire that made his voice drop an octave very distracting. “All you had to do was ask.”

You let out a startled squeak when Izaya let go of your hand, picking you up off your feet. You swung your legs around his waist in panic, though you weren’t without support for long. Within a few feet, Izaya set you down on the hard surface of the edge of his desk. Disentangling your legs from his waist, he pushed you back until you rested on your elbows. He reached forward to drag your pants and underwear the rest of the way down and you did what you could to assist him, shimmying your hips and lifting them until you could kick the clothing away.

You jumped when Izaya’s touch traced over your stomach, just beneath the hem of your shirt, caressing the skin there lightly before drawing lines down toward your thighs. He kneaded the tender skin on either side; the muscles twitching reflexively under his fingers. “You seem a little tense,” he mused, leaning down and placing several open-mouthed kisses on your skin, following the same path as his hands. “Who knew you got so wound up without my attention?”

His fingers dug harder into your skin, the cool metal of his rings a pleasant contrast on your skin as he grabbed your thighs and spread your legs wider. He bent his head, the fringe of his hair blocking some of his face from sight, your thighs hiding even more of him. His tongue flickered out, starting at the bottom of your seam and barely breaching it before dragging slowly up.

You bucked into his mouth, a short gasp rolling off your tongue, the molten warmth in your gut swelling in answer. Releasing your thighs, he settled the fingers of one hand in a vee on either side of your lips, spreading your pussy open and admiring it. His tongue lolled out again, licking a more deliberate stripe up your folds and wriggling his tongue in a serpentine pattern over your clit. His free hand settled on your hip as you rolled them upward again, preventing you from squirming too much.

He continued, alternating between teasing your clit with light strokes of his tongue and sucking on it gently. His name flowed from your mouth in a breathless stream, punctuated by airy, obscene sounds. When he pulled away, you were trembling from the mounting pleasure, cunt clenching erratically around nothing and chest heaving, brought to the peak of pleasure but still not beyond. All over, your body was hot, tense, and tingling, and you yearned for the last little push.

“You must have missed me a lot. You’re so wet,” Izaya noted, pushing two fingers into your cunt and languidly pumping them in and out. “And you’re shaking. Are you that excited?” He asked gleefully.

At first, you just moaned, enjoying the new sensation, rocking your hips as much as you still could against it. “Yes, yes, Izaya,” you groaned, eyes squeezed shut, indulging in the feeling and the smooth, husky sound of his voice. “It feels so good… I’ve needed you so bad,” you admitted, crying out needily between your words.

“I can tell,” he said, sinking back down for a moment to lick and suck at your clit again while his fingers worked you slowly. “How do you want to cum, my dear? From my tongue or on my cock?” He offered when he paused again, delighting in the way your breathing hitched again.

You bit your lip, struggling to hold back the moans that poured from your lips so you could answer him. With the tight feeling in your gut growing tenser, it was no simple task. “Better decide quick,” Izaya teased again, “feels like you’re getting awfully close.”

Fighting the delicious feeling smoldering between your legs, you gave Izaya an answer, panting and unrestrained. “On your cock, Izaya. Fuck me, please. I need you,” you begged without shame, previous embarrassment and reluctance melting away in a flash of primal heat.

“You sound so sweet and desperate,” Izaya purred, moving from between your legs and standing back to undress. “I guess I can’t say no to that.”

You watched him strip off his shirt and his pants, taking a second yourself to pull your shirt and bra over your head and toss them onto the floor carelessly. When Izaya returned to you, his cock hanging stiff and eager between his legs, crowned by a bead of pre-cum, you expected him to fuck you on the desk. Instead, he picked you up again, helping you curl your legs around him and cupping your ass. To your surprise, he climbed the stairs easily with you held tightly and clinging to his shoulders.

Your cunt throbbed needily, reminding you of your desires, and your pulse pounded so loud it was all you could hear. Crossing the threshold into the dark bedroom, Izaya lay you across the sheets, tidied from the morning earlier. You scooted back, further up the sheets, until you were fully settled on the mattress. Izaya followed eagerly, though even in his eagerness, his motion was purposeful and confident.

When he reached you, he spread his lean frame along you, letting all of your skin press flush against his. You shivered again, goosebumps rising on your skin and you groaned. He nipped a path over your neck and collarbone, a few especially hard bites leaving small, angry patches of red behind.

Izaya hadn’t forgotten how close he’d brought you to cumming downstairs, nor had he forgotten your lustful pleas for him to fuck you. Slipping himself between your legs, he guided the head of his cock to your entrance, pushing forward. Slowly. Far too slowly for the intensity of your boiling blood and all the teasing he had put you through.

“Aah, Izaya… you’re going too slow. More, please,” you begged, giving your hips a short buck to try to take more of his length inside you.

Izaya moved both hands to your hips, holding them down and ruining your attempt to dictate his pace. “Easy, darling. I want to take my time,” he told you mischievously, though his voice betrayed that the slow slide of your cunt around his cock affected him as well. “You know they say patience is a virtue.” The words were low and quiet into your ear, accompanied by a hungry stroke of his tongue that turned into a bite.

You whimpered, still trying to grind your hips against his futilely. Unable to affect his pace from below, you wrapped your hands around him, trying to press him forward by his slim waist. “But maybe it’s one you don’t quite have,” he taunted, amused by your persistent attempts to bury his dick in you fully.

He continued to push forward, making sure you both felt every inch. You whimpered at the hot stretch of his cock, body buzzing with the sense of fullness as he sank deeper, your cunt throbbing. He mirrored your noises, his moans coming out softer, but deeper, between more of his lips skating over your skin. Now and then he pressed more passionate kisses to your lips, at one point tangling your tongue with his own.

“Mm, there,” he growled hotly when he was completely sheathed in your heat. He groaned and let his head loll forward, enjoying how your pussy hugged him close and tight, your arms reflecting its embrace. “You’re squeezing me so tight, how am I supposed to give you what you want?”

He lifted his hands away from your hips, unraveling your arms from around him. Gathering both your wrists in one hand, he pinned them above your head in the sheets. You were beyond sense, giving in to the hunger pervading your blood and the satisfaction of having Izaya’s full attention at last after being so sorely neglected. “Please, please, please,” you chanted, taking advantage of your newly free hips and bucking against Izaya’s.

Bracing himself on his free hand, Izaya withdrew slowly, not done tormenting you, despite how far drowned you were in your rapture. “There’s that wonderful desperation again,” he murmured, watching as your face twisted with pleasure as he sank back in, coaxing another soft whimper from your throat. “How’s it feel? Did you miss this, too?” He drew his hips back a bit quicker, driving them back until he was balls deep in your heat again, enjoying the fluttering of your cunt.

“Fuck… yes!” You cried out. “Your cock feels so good. I missed it. You. This. All of it,” your voice sank to a hush, thick and breathless, content and full as Izaya rocked into you.

“What a good girl,” he praised, catching your lips for another kiss and swallowing the moans that flowed over your tongue.

Your body tensed again, the familiar sensation of approaching orgasm dawning on you for the third time that evening. This time, your pleasure showed no signs of being taken away. In fact, Izaya responded more readily to the clench of your body around him and the increasing pitch in your smothered moans and the way your breathing picked up, heavy and short.

He broke the kiss, putting his lips to your ear again. “Don’t stop making those beautiful noises for me, darling. I can tell you’re almost there.”

As if the breathy rasp of his voice had been a trigger, the wave of your orgasm broke over you, shattering the taut spring in your gut and reducing you to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing deliciously beneath his body. You called his name amidst a string of gibberish and curses, arching your back and clenching your hands.

When he spoke again, Izaya was hard to make out through the orgasmic fog dampening your senses. “That face when you cum never gets boring.” More praise rolled off his tongue, and he thrust into you rougher, fighting the squeeze of your cunt as you rode out your orgasm. “What a mess you’ve made of me. Fuck,” he cursed. 

Coated in sweat, his dark hair sticking to his forehead and brown eyes wild, he truly looked a beautiful mess, even to your muddled glance. His tempo grew less steady, coming quickly to his own end. “I hope you’re ready for what you’ve done to me,” he groaned before he came, stiffening against you.

Several more long, satisfying moans drifted into the room, overpowering your last few fading whimpers. His cum filled you, hot and thick, and he collapsed over you, catching his breath, thrusting shallowly a couple times more. He groaned, resting his head on your chest and letting go of your wrists. You both remained still for a few minutes, panting and exhausted, the room thick with the musky smell of sex.

Pulling out, he rolled off to the side, and you felt the slow, warm trickle of his cum on your thigh. You looked over, expecting that he wouldn’t stay in bed long. “I guess now you have to get back to work…” you mumbled, the disappointment in your voice poorly hidden.

To your surprise, Izaya didn’t make for his feet to leave the room and redress. He turned onto his side, grabbing you by the hip and pulling you toward him until his front was pressed to your back, hands folded over your chest. “I think I’ve got some time left.” he considered thoughtfully, his cool demeanor returning with his breath, the way his thumbs absently stroked your skin a sign of how relaxed he was. “Besides, I don’t think you’ve gotten enough me yet, am I right?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's that! I've got more Izaya concepts in mind for the future (ranging from fluffy but still sexy, to kind of depraved and selfish), but we'll see about those another time! Until then If you’d like to follow me elsewhere, I post my work to Tumblr (and ramblings on process/concepts/etc.)
> 
> [https://bjy-on-ao3.tumblr.com](https://bjy-on-ao3.tumblr.com/)


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